Oblivion
by MoonytheMarauder1
Summary: Locked in Azkaban, Bellatrix Lestrange waits to be reunited with her master at last. Warnings for angst and canon Longbottom torture


**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. Prompts are below :)**

**Mythology Task 8: Write about avenging a loved one**

**Word Count: 1128**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**WARNINGS: Angst, canon Longbottom torture**

**Enjoy!**

Her laughter rose above the screams sounding throughout the prison, a broken, hysterical sound that was proof of her oncoming insanity. The years she'd spent in Azkaban all blurred into each other, marked only by the slow heating and cooling of the temperature outside. She didn't see much sun—her cell only had one small, barred window—but she felt the seasons clearly. Cool and hot on her skin alternatively, her only measure of time.

She swayed in her cell, black eyes glittering happily. The skin beneath her eyes was a dark purple, evidence of the exhaustion and mental torture she suffered through. Normally she would be screaming her fury, but tonight was different. There was a burning on her arm that she hadn't felt since her master had fallen—he had done the impossible.

He was back from the dead.

Her lips curled upward as she recalled the days she used to spend with him. She could remember every scream, all those eyes glowing with fear, but above all she remembered the elation of knowing that _she_ was in control—that he had chosen _her_ to rule at his side. She thought of all the unworthy blood they had wiped from the earth, and how they could continue their work now.

And this time, there would be no stopping them.

* * *

"_Bella, he's fallen! We need to convince the Ministry that we were not in their numbers—"_

_Bellatrix recoiled from her youngest sister. "He must be out there," she hissed. "He is too powerful to be gone."_

_Narcissa shook her head. "He isn't immortal, Bella. We… we lost."_

_Bellatrix whipped out her wand, dark hair flying about her face. "We haven't lost," she said, voice low. "We could never lose this fight. And you—denouncing him before you know anything for certain—"_

_Lucius Malfoy strode up beside his wife, placing a hand on her shoulder. He leveled a look at Bellatrix, blue eyes cold and clear. "We are not denouncing him. We agree with his cause—we will always fight on the Dark Lord's side. But unless he is present again, we won't risk our son. We must preserve the family reputation."_

_Bellatrix straightened her spine. "There must be a way to find him."_

_With a quick glance over her shoulder, Narcissa sent Lucius out of the room, passing their son, one-year-old Draco, to him. She then turned to her oldest sister. _

"_I know that you care for him, Bella," she said softly. "I'm not blind. But he can't love you. He will only use your affections."_

_Bellatrix stalked closer, growling. The blonde woman didn't flinch; she was used to these intimidation acts. "I don't seek his love, Cissy." She ignored her last comment. "I seek only his right hand. The power he will grant our family—"_

"_Bella, please don't do anything rash!"_

"_My husband has already agreed with me, but I see you will not go," Bellatrix seethed. _

"_Go where?"_

_A smile broke the scowl on Bellatrix's face, somehow more terrifying than her glare. "The Longbottoms. They were close with the Potters."_

_Narcissa's face didn't change, but there was a slight tremor in her voice. "They have a son, Bella."_

_Bellatrix laughed lowly. "And I am happy to sacrifice him to the Dark Lord. Stay if you must. But I will not vouch for you."_

_As she walked out of the sitting room of Malfoy Manor, Narcissa called out to her. _

"_Pain is not beauty, Bellatrix. You will doom yourself!"_

_Narcissa was wrong. Hours later, when the Longbottoms writhed and screamed at her feet, Bellatrix thought she had never seen anything more glorious. It was thrilling, intoxicating. But she couldn't revel in it like she normally did—she had information to gather._

_She never got it. As the minutes ticked by, it became more and more apparent that she was searching for something that wasn't there. But she couldn't stop now—they had to know something. They had to._

_So she continued. It was the most powerful Cruciatus she'd ever thrown at anybody, and though the Longbottoms were strong, no one could withstand such a measure for long. All her anger poured out of her and into that spell; all her frustration, her obsession, what her sister thought was love—it all came out. The Longbottoms could _feel _it. That was the most remarkable thing. They were feeling what she was feeling, they were breaking just like she was._

_They weren't like her. They didn't know how to be empty, how to live off of only negative feelings. Bellatrix knew. It was how she had lived her whole life. It was just her mind that was coming undone now._

_He couldn't be gone. She wouldn't let him be gone. But if it was true—if a baby had bested her master—then she would not rest until that child was dead._

_They screamed beneath her when they felt that new resolve, but she was laughing._

_When the Aurors came hours later, it was too late for Frank and Alice Longbottom. Azkaban was cold, but it was nothing compared to the ice in her heart. He was truly gone._

_Part of her just couldn't accept that._

* * *

It was a long time before he came for her, but she was patient.

"Pain is beauty," she whispered to herself inside her cell, "and I am the prettiest. I am the prettiest, I am the prettiest, _he will see me because I am the prettiest!"_

And he would, this time. He would see her, praise her for her loyalty. _This time she would be rewarded._

They would find Potter together. The boy would pay for the end he nearly brought her master, just as the Longbottoms paid so long ago. There would be no escape this time. She and the Dark Lord would find him, and Potter would feel her pain. His mind would fracture under the sheer agony, but she would not relent until all of it, _all of it_ was transferred to Harry Potter.

Then the glory days would return. Their revenge on the world would be swift and terrible, and she would be his. She ached from wanting it—from wanting him.

It was not love, she promised herself. Cissy had been right all those years ago—Voldemort could not love. It was a weak, soft emotion that had no place in the world they would build. Bellatrix was not so pathetic as to love him.

It was need.

She needed him. She needed to help him rid the world of impure blood, needed to hear the screams of the ones they deemed unworthy, needed to be in charge—needed him to place her at the top.

For now she would wait. She knew he would come.

And on some level, she knew with utmost certainty, he needed her, too.

**A/N:**

**Writing Club:**

**Assorted Appreciation: 3. Write about a villain**

**Disney Challenge: 8. Si & Am — Write about a gruesome twosome**

**Amber's Attic: Facts 8. (trait) dramatic**

**Sophie's Shelf: 15. "Pain is beauty, and I am the prettiest."**

**Em's Emporium: 2. (location) Azkaban**

**Angel's Arcade: 3. Cecil Harvey — (word) thrilling, (color) dark purple, (pairing) LuciusNarcissa**

**Bex's Basement: 10. Write about taking someone for granted in a relationship**

**Film Festival: 8. (setting) prison (bonus) **


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